


Gym Bag

by IMAgentMI



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:10:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI
Summary: They say that our sense of smell is the sense that is closest linked to memory.  Some of the Freelancers learn just how true that is.





	

“What are you doing?”

Carolina straightened next to her locker, watching York put his face practically inside his workout bag and breathing deeply. When he resurfaced to face her, his eyes had a soft, blissed out look to them. 

“This is the best thing ever,” he said, voice heavy with nostalgia before his head disappeared back into the bag - literally inside the bag this time. “It’s like my childhood in smell form.”

Carolina was tempted to pull it over his head like a hat - judging by the look on his face, he would probably be happy to walk around like that all day - but curiosity held her back. “How does your childhood smell like a gym bag?” 

York barely heard her. “Tape. Sweaty pads. Concrete walls. That smell water bottles have.” Each muffled word emerged from the bag as smooth and reverent as beads on a rosary.

“What is he doing?” North walked in from the sim floor still in full armour, but Carolina could easily imagine the incredulous look on his face. 

“North,” York said, thickly, “you’ve got to smell this.”

Carolina watched North’s helmet sag forward, heard the slightly metallic sound of his sigh. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” But the helmet did come off, and with a look of deep suspicion, North sniffed the proffered bag. Carolina blinked in surprise when his head abruptly dipped inside and the sound of his next breath was so loud she suspected it could be heard all the way out in the hallway. “Oh my god.” Another deep breath. “It’s like… skates. And sticks all in a row together, like all that wood and tape, it had a smell, you know?” York was nodding fervently as North took another sniff. “And like… that smell that never left your pads, no matter if they were wet or dry. And the ice when you got snowed.”

“Yes!” York was leaning forward again, as though he couldn’t bear to be away from the scent a second longer, and Carolina shook her head at the two of them standing together, eyes closed, half looking like they wanted to just climb inside the bag and stay there.

“What the fuck are they doing?” South was clearly just out of the showers, a towel wrapped around herself. She unwrapped a second towel one-handedly from her hair, and bunched it up in her fist, as though she was considering throwing it at the two men.

“South,” North’s voice came out in a raspy whisper, as though he was reluctant to even exhale, “smell this and tell me what it reminds you of.” 

South rolled her eyes, but stepped forward without question, throwing her towel towards the hamper before leaning over the bag. “It smells like the laundry room-”

“-uh-”

“-with all our hockey gear laid out to dry. Oh my god.” Now South’s head was inside the bag. “And the locker rooms at the arena. And how it had that smell when it was freezing cold, but everyone fucking steamed and smelled exactly the same, like hot leather and velcro and…” Another deep breath. “And like, when you tape your stick and sometimes you had to tear the tape with your teeth and nothing else smelled like that, nothing…” South’s voice faltered, and now there were three heads hovering above the bag. 

“You guys need a moment alone?” The words came out sarcastic, but they had barely left her mouth when Carolina realized that they probably did. 

“How long’s it been for you?”

“Twelve years.”

“Eleven.”

“Eight for me. Found a shinny league before I joined up, they let me play a game or two with them. I couldn’t commit to every week, but…”

Another pause.

“Remember how Pops used to tie our skates?”

“Yeah. And I got mad and told him I could do it myself. He’d let me, but I could never get them tight enough, so he’d fix them on the bench between shifts.”

“My mom used to tie my skates. When I played those last times, that was all I could think about.” York’s next words were tightly controlled. “Funny how little things like that seem so important later.”

“Actually, I don’t think that’s funny at all. It’s just...right.” Carolina was surprised to hear that from South, but North only smiled, and York nodded his head. He had a glazed distant look, as though he was about a million miles away. Or perhaps only a couple decades, but unreachable just the same. 

Carolina quietly grabbed her bag, gathered her dirty clothes and towels. She dumped the damp bundle in the mesh hamper by the exit and turned one last time to look behind. The three teammates stood perfectly still, heads nearly touching, all three holding on to the bag as though it was something sacred. She heard, rather than saw, the last shared sigh, and just as they began to stir, she turned and walked out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're ever bored and want to do a social experiment, find any person you know who used to play hockey, and ask, "You know the way an ice arena smells?" You don't have to say anything more. If you ask two people at the same time, you'll watch an almost identical scene unfold.


End file.
